Tired Bones
by IndianSummer
Summary: Dark Improv in 1st person POV. Summer, Tristan's ex-girlfriend, accounts for her problems with relationships. Don't read if you can't handle dark, emotional fics.


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Title: Tired Bones

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Author: _Summer_

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Rating: R, definitely R

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Category: Dark improv; I'd use the term ficlet, but it seems too light and happy

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How the hell did I come up with the idea for this: My stepsister. Playing the Jewel song, "Daddy," on kiosk. A recent episode of one of those crime shows, I think _Law and Order: SVU. _My name. Combine the three, and you have the history of one of Gilmore Girls' most despised characters.

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Subject Matter: Dark. Seriously dark. Contains implications of sexual abuse. If you can't deal with dark, emotional fics, turn back now, because I don't appreciate mindless flames. 

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Summary: Summer reflects on why her relationships have always been so shallow.

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Thanks to my betas, Julie and Katie.

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My bones are tired, Daddy / I don't get enough sleep / I don't eat as good as I could, Daddy / What's that say about me?

"No one's ever accused me of being a deep person. I've been called many things by many people, but sagacious has never been among those qualities. I'm more likely to be thought of as the manipulative, calculating siren I've attempted to ingrain upon the minds of my peers.

"It's better to believe me a coldhearted slut than for them to become close, to know what distresses me, to know what disrupts the normally calm order of my life. 

"To let someone become that close to me, to take the chance of someone learning what wakes me up in the middle of the night, leaving me in a cold sweat, is not something I can afford.

"It's simpler the way I live, letting everyone think my deepest worry is whether or not my nail polish is the same hue of violet as that new ribbed sweater I bought.

"It's less complicated to allow people to go on in their beliefs that I have few close friends because my standards are too high, than to let everyone know that I don't trust many people.

"My friendships are the same way. Even my best friends know little about my life outside of school. They know my parents' names, their occupations, and how much they make a year, but essentially all the Chiltonites could utter those facts off the top of their heads.

"My friends know that I don't get along very well with my parents, that there's an imaginary wall, thicker than the best molasses, dividing me from them.

"They weren't invited over my house very often, and they hadn't found it strange that I should have my sweet sixteenth birthday party in the chilly atmosphere of the Crowne Plaza Hotel instead of in the slightly more inviting ambiance of my own home.

"They hadn't found it odd when I had avoided my house the weeks after my half sister, the product of my mother's continuous tryst with the poolboy, was born.

"My boyfriends were just as oblivious as my friends, with the exception, of course, of Tristan Janlen DuGrey. My folly, certainly, was the assumption that an honors student would not pick up on the things other boys overlooked. Tristan, however, proved me erroneous.

"Around the time of February vacation in my sophomore year, our relationship became tenser than it had been, due to Tristan's questioning of my motives for avoiding home.

"Are you ashamed of me?" he had asked, so frustrated he came across as whiny. "I know I have a… a _reputation_, Summer, of being a bit of a… _player, _but I'm not anymore. You know that."

"I had smiled sadly, nodding. "I know that," I had reassured him. "That's not it. It's my father."

"What about him?" Tristan had asked, eyes alert, wanting to share my pain. "Is he… mean to you?"

"I remember it had been hard to avoid laughing at his innocent statement, realizing that no matter how hard he thought his life was, how worldly he believed he was, in the grand scheme of things, he was as innocent as that new scholarship case he went out of his way to annoy.

"I had often wondered if Tristan had feelings for Rory Gilmore that surpassed those of admiration. I was aware he respected her- making it to Chilton without the support of rich parents was quite impressive. She didn't fit into the generalization of what a private school girl was supposed to be- a sexed up, prissy rich girl whose largest concern was whether or not she had broken a nail.

"Of course, a male had made that generalization. It had to have been, because no self-respecting girl would have made it. 

"Rory Gilmore had startled my boyfriend by not batting her eyelashes at him, by not flushing every time he winked at her, said something suggestive. She had challenged him, met him word for word in his debate, bickered with him.

"I was aware that this harmless bantering had affected him; I wasn't as naïve as he believed. I didn't dissuade it, simply because it preoccupied Tristan's mind, away from my problems, and toward Rory Gilmore's. Believe it or not, I had never liked being the center of attention.

"Perhaps my weakness at meaningful relations was stemmed by my personal insecurities, by my fear of people.

"Perhaps it was simply because I couldn't trust anyone enough to let them share my pain, so instead, I pushed them away.

"Perhaps it was simply my strong opinions on human nature, knowing that when someone asked how you were doing, they didn't fancy an answer such as "Horrible. I don't feel good, I failed a bio test, and my boyfriend's drifting away." It was a common courtesy to ask about one's wellness, and it might as well be a rhetorical question.

"I… I need a break." My voice is trembling, and the woman just nods her head, letting me open the door. "I'll… I'll be right back."

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Sometimes I sleep past noon, Daddy / Drink lost of black coffee and I smoke like a chimney / Yes, I left the refrigerator door half open, Daddy / What's that say about me?  


"Whatever the cause was, it caused me to push Tristan away. I was aware that boys fancied me to be a concubine, ready and willing as long as a boy had some form of protection on him.

"I despised this, really, but I felt I must take advantage of it. Austin Hart was one of these boys, willing to believe anything if it would get him laid, pardon my frankness. I had approached him the night of Madeline's party, with my 'come hither' gaze, which had been perfected years before.

"He did, of course. I had lured him into a bathroom, passing right in front of Tristan, sure he'd notice.

"Tristan did. Right as I had locked the bathroom door, there was a pounding on it, then Tristan was yelling at me, at Austin, at anyone who would listen. He had never had much of a temper, but I suppose losing his reputation in front of everyone created one.

"Of course, we had broken up moments later, and I had ended up going home and crying myself to sleep, realizing that Tristan was the only boy I had ever cared about in the history of all my relationships.

"But the breakup had been necessary. Otherwise, Tristan may have gotten too close. He would have seen the scars, both emotional and physical. He would have seen my father in an alcoholic rage, seen how he acted, seen what he did.

"Knowing Tristan, he wouldn't have stopped there. Tristan's grandfather was a very powerful man, and I wouldn't doubt it for a moment if Tristan had him employ his power to scrape through my records.

"I can picture it, the way you can picture a vivid nightmare. Medical records, so many 'accidents,' especially around the holiday. Bruising all over my body, on my arms, my stomach, my breasts, my thighs. Scars.

This made me anxious; I needed water or I'd faint. I said so.

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Sometimes I want to rip out you throat, Daddy / For all those things you said that were mean / Gonna make you just as vulnerable as I was, Daddy / What's that say about me?

"I know what's coming. Why didn't I leave. I couldn't leave my sister's there, not with him, not alone.

"I know my mother was there, but… but it didn't matter. She didn't believe me. I had told her before, when I was twelve, when he still… touched me. He hasn't in a few years. 

"I wouldn't let him touch Gillian or Melissa. They didn't deserve it. They hadn't done anything. They were innocent. He couldn't corrupt them… he wouldn't. I promised myself I'd do anything in my power to stop that. Even if it meant staying there.

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Sometimes I want to bash in your teeth, Daddy / Gonna use your tongue as a stamp/   
Gonna rip your heart out the way you did mine, Daddy / Go ahead and psycho-analyze that

"I heard Gillian screaming Friday night. She has nightmares… so I figured that's what it was. I took my time. I went to get her some milk, because that's the only way she can go back to sleep after her nightmares.

"If I had just gone in right away, maybe he wouldn't have… oh God…" I broke down, started crying.

"When I got to Gillian, he was hitting her. He had pulled down her underwear, and he was hitting her. On the butt.

"I panicked. I didn't know what else to do. All that mattered was keeping him away from Gillian. She's only ten!" A tear slipped down my cheek.

Cause I'm your creation, I'm your love, Daddy / Grew up to be and do all those sick things you said I'd do / Well last night I saw you sneak out your window / With your white hood, daddy  


"I was no better than him. I, I grabbed her lamp. The one from her desk. It was heavy; I didn't know it would be so heavy. I was so scared.

"It took all my strength to raise it over his head. He didn't notice me until it was coming down on his head. Then he turned his head to me, and his mouth was open, and his eyes widened… and…it hit him."

"He crumpled to the floor. His head… there was blood. I didn't want him to die. I tried to stop it. I…

"Gillian got up. She was screaming. She ran from the room. I followed her.

I stopped as a picture was pushed toward me, a picture of Gillian's room, of blood on the floor, the shattered lamp next to it.

"I saved him. And he escaped."

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What's that say about you? / I'm sloppy, what's that say about you? / I'm messy, what's that say about you? / My bones are tired, daddy

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